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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654383">say that you'll hold me forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity'>quantumoddity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Nightrunner Series - Lynn Flewelling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, but here we go, listen I don't know if this is how proposals work in this universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:34:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec has a solo job tonight but something about it doesn't seem quite right...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alec í Amasa/Seregil í Korit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>say that you'll hold me forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In his more introspective moments, Alec would think that the reason night running came so easily to him, the reason he’d slipped into it like a pair of well broken in boots when it was so different from the simple life he’d been leading before, was because it was so like archery. When you got right down to it, both were about breathing steadily, keeping your eyes open, having patience and knowing when to let go. All things that had been his lifeblood since he could walk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And because both came so easily to Alec, when something was amiss it was like having something stuck in his teeth. If the arrow he was using had warped or was made out of balance, he could sense it in a moment. If his string wasn’t oiled, he knew as soon as he drew it back. If a breeze no harder than a breath were blowing between him and his target, it may as well have been a gale for as much as it made the act feel impossible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if something was wrong with a night running job, Alec knew it. And tonight’s particular job felt like he was trying to shoot without an arrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had seemed fine that morning, when he and Seregil had been taking breakfast in the living room at the Stag and Otter; Alec ruffling the ears of one of Ruthea’s last litter on his knee and his lover shuffling through their latest stack of messages for a cat of a very different kind while they ate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a lot of them, some written on fine vellum, some scrawled hastily on notes that had since become crumpled as they’d passed from hand to hand to reach the elusive, far famed and entirely fictional burglar for hire known as the Rhíminee Cat. As Seregil was fond of saying, the nobles did all sorts of silly things in the spring and it was as fine a late spring morning as anyone had ever known. The window was open to a warm breeze and honey gold shafts of early sunlight, the bells of some temple were chiming in the distance and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alec barely looked up when Seregil cursed from across the table, he only hummed, “Did it again, hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s these damned nobles,” Seregil scowled, holding two notes and looking between them in exasperation, “They’re too used to getting their own way, it makes them such demanding customers. They want everything done this very night or immediately or bloody yesterday! No regard for a man’s schedule...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the nobles, love, it's the fact that you have no organisation system so you keep double booking yourself,” Alec said patiently, using the distraction to snag the last bit of bacon from Seregil’s plate to feed to the kitten on his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Seregil huffed, “Still. It’s inconvenient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll just split up tonight,” Alec shrugged as his little friend stole away with her prize, “You go and get Duke Amon’s ring back from whoever won it off him and I’ll take whichever job you thought was tomorrow but is actually tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seregil folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, “I’m not that poorly organised…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the fourth time it’s happened this spring and let’s not forget the time you didn’t keep a close enough track on things and nearly placed a risque miniature of Baron Carmine in Lady Raya’s bedside table rather than the ring you were supposed to put there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seregil was quiet for a long time, his mouth set in a pout until he grunted, “Fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So tell me about my job tonight,” Alec grinned, reaching over to play with one of the many curls of dark hair that stuck out from Seregil’s head after a night of tossing and turning. He knew that would chase away his lover’s chagrin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seregil hummed and inclined his head towards the warmth of Alec’s fingers, “So some twitterpated noble has got it into his head that he’s going to propose to his beau and that it absolutely, positively must happen tonight. He’s got some ridiculous grand gesture planned in his head, having the ring delivered to them silently in the dead of night so it’s there when they wake up. Surprised he’s not having a dove slip it onto their hand personally…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alec chuckled, “Perhaps it was short notice. It would take rather a long time to train a dove.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seregil smirked, “Anyway, the problem is he’s gone and left it in his apartments in the business end of the city by the docks, he’s a wealthy merchant of some degree, and he can’t go get it himself without arousing suspicion. So our job is to slip into his place, slip back out again and deliver it to his intended.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too lazy more like,” Alec wrinkled his nose, “Fine, where is this girl who I’m hoping has more sense than her soon to be betrothed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seregil shrugged, “Message only says that the address to deliver it to will be written on a label attached to the box. Probably didn’t want that kind of information floating around the city on a note being handed around some more disreputable characters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alec snorted, “Bet you a gold sester her parents don’t know about this match. Why else be so secretive?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seregil raised his eyebrows and simpered exaggeratedly, “Perhaps it’s a heartbreaking tale of true love overcoming societal disapproval?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or some fool making too much of a few friendly glances and thinking himself some heroic knight saving a girl who isn’t even interested,” Alec tugged on his lock of Seregil’s hair gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lover shrugged, shaking him off and sitting back with his tea cup held in his hands, “Whatever it is, talí, he’s paying handsomely. Would you mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like the easiest job I’ve done in months. I’ll make sure supper’s on the table for when you get back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that had been this morning and now Alec was perched on top of a very high wall surrounding the lavish building and he was having doubts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not about his route into the noble’s apartments, that was clear as day. The building itself was called an inn but it was as far removed from the alehouses and winesinks that could also boast that title as a carriage horse was from a mule. It was more like a miniature manor house, each one of it’s floors a luxury suite meant for the lesser nobles who had made their fortunes on the backs of the sailors and tradesmen that worked on the wharves the inn overlooked. This was the place they’d occupy on the nights of the working week, when business held their attention, but most would also have a place not unlike Wheel Street for their leisure time, where they kept their wives and children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alec could see precisely how he would vault from the wall he now crouched on, land on the lip of the roof, follow it a little ways around the shadowed inn and slip into the window of his mark, safely untouched by any lamplight from the main street. It couldn’t have been simpler. But still, uncertainty sat in his stomach like he’d eaten a heavy meal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated, trying to summon the clarity of mind that usually accompanied his night running or at least a concrete reason why things felt so plainly wrong but he received no answer except a gentle lifting of the wind that stirred the hood he’d pulled up tight around his head and carefully tucked his braid into. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I don’t move quickly, what’s going to be giving me doubts will be a bluecoat’s quarrel in my chest </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought with irritation at himself. He abandoned his misgivings on top of the wall and sprightly hopped up onto the roof, his well muffled slippers barely making a whisper as he landed and began the slow, careful walk along the slates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he crept along in the shadows, he had to take a moment to appreciate the beauty of such a clear night. Rhíminee never looked more beautiful than when it was observed from the top of some high place Alec wasn’t meant to be, when it was nestled in the purple shadows of twilight, all glittering lamps in winding streets and a hundred yellow eyes blinking as people set candles into their windows, either to go to bed or to welcome new patrons in the brothels and gambling houses of the Street of Lights. The palace and the Orëska House were like looming candles, their towers still a deep orange with the last of the setting sun, their expansive floors the deep purple of true night. There was a sense of the city settling down, heaving some kind of silent sigh as another day ended and a whole new Rhíminee awoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And somewhere in it’s shadowed depths, Seregil was about his own business, chasing down a family heirloom some arrogant lord had wagered on a hand at the Dragon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luck in the shadows, talí,” Alec whispered to the twilight, feeling the tug of the bond they shared as the thought travelled along it’s thread to his love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The latch on the window was tricky though he expected nothing less at such a fine establishment with so many wealthy clients. There was a lot to protect within its whitewashed walls, after all. Still, between his clever fingers and the pick he kept in his braid, it was barely a few minutes before Alec had it open and most of that was looking down for watchmen or dogs in the yard below. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was dark, the noble of course off with the love he hoped to make his wife. Alec wondered if he was nervous, holding her tight as she slept, both anxious for the dawn to arrive and rather afraid of it at the same time. He could only imagine how it must feel, to ask someone to share their entire life with you, to hand them a piece of your heart in the shape of a simple loop of metal and gemstone, without something as sure as a talímenios bond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made him a little jealous, if he was honest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dismissed the thought quickly, seeing no sense in wanting things he couldn’t have. The window opened, he swung himself inside, landing on the rich woven carpet so no one below would hear him. As soon as he righted himself, the feeling came back as strong as it had been outside, the sensation that something was amiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was just a string sense of the place being...unlived in. Sure the trappings of a young, overly wealthy man were spread around the room- fine coats in a number of rich fabrics hung by the door, the walls lined with books and the fine art on the walls, the plush looking furniture and tasteful hangings- but it was as if a layer of dust hung over it all. Alec knew how to read the traces a person left in their home, how to track their daily routines in which chairs had the deepest depressions and which books were always slightly out of alignment based on how they sat on the shelf. And this place held none of that. It was as if the place were deliberately posed, like the set for some elaborate play, but never intended to be lived in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alec’s hand twitched for the knife concealed in his boot. He knew a trap when he saw one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made no movement for the window or any other escape route. He could handle himself, whatever was about to appear from whatever shadowy corner of this place, but Seregil would scold himself for weeks even with no way of knowing that of both of those notes in his hand, of all the hundreds of summons they received, this would be the one that turned out dangerous. Alec was already dreading the look on his face when he brought the news back to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved far more carefully now, stepping into the place, heading for the desk where he’d been told the ring box was kept. His feet didn’t catch a single creaking floorboard, no figure moved from any direction. All was silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning, he double and even triple checked the locks on the drawers. No poisoned needles, no dart ready to spring, no trap to close around his fingers. It was just an ordinary piece of furniture with a painfully average lock he had open within seconds. And that only made his suspicions deepen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seregil had said nothing about who’d sent them the summons, there was no way to tell if this was some secret enemy after them in particular, someone who had a grudge against the shadowy Rhíminee Cat or if this was one piece of a much more elaborate game. All there was to do was find the ring box, see where it needed delivering and wait for the tension to resolve itself. Some hands you just needed to play, even if you knew they were rigged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First drawer, empty. Second drawer, nothing but a few clumps of dust. The hair’s on the back of  Alec’s neck stood to attention, why weren’t there any ledgers or papers, nothing so much as a pen to prove that a living, breathing man actually worked at this desk?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The box was in the third drawer along, a long, oblong shaped wooden box with a metal clasp. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Far too big for a ring box</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Alec thought. This must be the crux of the trap, the spring wound tight and ready to pounce. He steadied his breathing and felt cautiously for any hidden blade, catch or wax plugged holes. Were they being used as assassins here? Was he supposed to deliver death to this poor woman’s bedside table? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All his search discovered was the promised label, fastened around the clasp. Frowning, Alec checked the paper for any poison dusting one last time before turning it over to read it. He didn’t think he’d be delivering this box tonight, not until he’d had Seregil and maybe even Thero check it over or it could mean death for whoever’s name was inscribed upon it- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alec’s throat tightened. The name on the label was his own. Not even the name Rhíminee knew him by, his true name. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alec í Amasa.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No address, just the name. And at a glance, Alec knew the hand that had written it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even when he’d been certain this whole affair was a trap, his heart had stayed beating it’s usual steady rhythm in his chest, his breathing had been silent and shallow. But now his heart was pounding in his chest and it was such an effort to keep his hands from shaking as he pulled back his hood and carefully opened the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a ring, a simple band of polished coppery coloured metal. Nothing flashy, nothing that would draw attention; a ring that could be worn on any number of night running jobs and never attract notice but he would always know it was there. But the ring had been threaded around the shaft of an arrow. Not an ordinary arrow, at a glance he knew this wasn’t made for shooting. This was beautifully carved, expertly wrought in polished wood so the shaft had been transformed into a gorgeous scene of an otter and a stag curling around one another as they raced in flight, surrounded by cunningly made flowers that he recognised in an instant. The exact same kind had grown around the cottage where he and Seregil had spent that winter together. The more he looked, the more he saw depths in the design; there were fingerling dragons as small as his littlest knuckle chasing each other around the span of it, there was a mountain range carved into it that reminded him so strongly of his earliest home, there were symbols inscribed all the way along in a clever pattern that spoke of a hundred places and a hundred adventures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The arrow told a story. It told </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And burned into the base of it was a question, composed of two words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marry me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Alec didn’t jump when he heard the footsteps behind him and he didn’t turn immediately. First he tried to wipe the tears from his eyes but it was no good, new ones sprang to replace them. It helped that, when he finally did face his lover, Seregil had damp cheeks too. And that familiar, crooked smile he loved so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I know it won’t mean anything, not legally,” he was standing in the doorway, dressed in the simple evening clothes Alec had left him in last, looking uncharacteristically nervous, “But...I don’t care. I want it for us, we’re the only ones who need to know. I was thinking...maybe a small ceremony at Watermead, just our friends, some rings, a few words...but I want to be able to call you my husband, Alec. Even if it’s just between us, even if I just get to look at you and think it then...it would be something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alec exhaled, voice soft though it carried over the small space between them, “Seregil, it would be everything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seregil laughed, more tears catching the dusk light outside the window, opening his arms. Alec needed no more invitation than that, flying into his embrace, holding him so tight he couldn’t ever imagine letting go. Whether they were crying or laughing or both, neither could really say, as they sank to the carpet still clasped together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sneaky bastard!” Alec finally managed to get out, grinning against Seregil’s shoulder, “How do I keep falling for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, talí, but I’m so glad you do,” Seregil murmured back, drawing away enough to kiss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kiss would have lasted until they had no more breath to give, if there wasn’t something Seregil wanted to do even more. The arrow was held fast in Alec’s hand so he slipped the ring off the shaft and placed it gently on his lover’s finger, first kissing the spot where it would lie for the rest of their lives. Now Alec could see there was a twin of it on his own finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you about when I was young, yes?” Seregil murmured, stroking his thumb across Alec’s knuckles, “How I would sit in my bedroom back in Aurënen and imagine the person who would be my talímenios, how I would dream of you before I even knew your face...even then, I couldn’t know how it would feel to love you so much. How much you would make me want to be a better man, how every morning simply waking up and seeing you sleeping next to me would make me feel so damn lucky. I didn’t know, Alec í Amasa, how happy I would be with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alec just shook his head, tears sparkling like diamonds of the most precious sort as they fell to their clasped hands, he didn’t have his lover’s skill with words. He just leaned in and kissed him again, murmuring every time they stopped for air, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But those were the only words Seregil needed to hear. </span>
</p>
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